


The Tale of Stephanie Stabbydagger

by DunmerLover



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Explicit Language, Hopefully light-hearted, Implied Sexual Content, Implied canon-compliant child abuse, Implied sexual depravity, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Khajiit OC - Freeform, Khajiit raised by humans, Light-Hearted, Non-canon naming, Not a dragonborn OC, Other characters are aware her name is stupid, Probably butchers the lore but I try my best to research, Quest-based, Spoilers, Violence, graphic killing, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-12-18 18:38:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11880450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DunmerLover/pseuds/DunmerLover
Summary: A wannabe member of the Dark Brotherhood, perpetually down on her luck but ever-optimistic, finds herself in the right place at the right time and overhears exactly the information that might help her on her quest.An attempt at writing something light-hearted and hopefully a little comedic?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of fun I got inspired to write after starting the "Innocence Lost" quest in my latest Skyrim run by the same name. It's my first attempt at writing ANYTHING that's intended to be light-hearted and at least a little comedic, and I'm trying to not take it too seriously. If you're reading this I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> (This is also my first attempt at writing a clean fic)

To say that Stephanie Stabbydagger was down on her luck would be an understatement. For Stephanie, being down on her luck wasn’t a transient state, it was more a way of being. In all her eighteen years, she’d come to the realisation that she wasn’t very good at anything. Not good enough to make a living, anyway. After barely scraping through her schooling, nobody would take her on as an apprentice. The word going around back home in Cyrodiil was that at the time, Stephanie was one smithing accident away from being begged to try another trade, and that she was so accident-prone, the local alchemist had _already_ bribed her a hundred Septims to never return to her laboratory. 

Which was _not_ true, Stephanie thought to herself as she threw her head down on the ale-dampened wooden table. She’d only given her fifty. Still, despite all her shortcomings, the Khajiit was perpetually optimistic. There was one thing that Stephanie _could_ do. The only problem with that was it was the same thing that _all_ her kind were good at - exactly the thing people would expect a Khajiit to be good at. So, even when she’d fled the nest, so to speak (booted out of the nest after coming of age the week before), there was one place that called out to her. She’d followed the legends, and they’d taken her all the way to Skyrim. Yes, the ever-optimistic Stephanie Stabbydagger had left her old name, and her old life behind, and would use her stealth to become the newest member of the mythical Dark Brotherhood. 

Her quest hadn’t been straightforward so far. To put it nicely, it was a disaster. To put it not-so nicely, it was a shit show from the word go. Apparently she didn’t leave her knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time at the border - being bound and herded for execution was the first thing to happen to her. Still, all the luck that had been mysteriously absent the last eighteen years must’ve come for her full-force, otherwise she’d be a dragon’s evening snack right about now. 

And that was, somehow, how she’d ended up where she was now - some tavern in some backwater village. Riverwood, he’d called it - that man who’d saved her. And she couldn’t afford a room. She could _never_ afford a room. She’d only made it _this_ far by doing a few things she wasn’t particularly proud of - the easiest way for her to secure a meal and a warm, safe(ish) bed for the night was usually to trade a few favours for them. Stephanie hoped there would be someone around tonight - man or mer - looking for an ‘exotic’ lover, otherwise she’d be sleeping out in the barn. And the tankard of ale she was nursing in the meantime, she’d traded her last bottle of Skooma for that. Having grown up around the men and mer of Cyrodiil, she knew enough at least to never touch the stuff, it was more like currency to her - saving it for a rainy day… and today the heavens had opened. She _deserved_ a drink after the day she’d had. 

Still slumped over with her head on the table and a hand wrapped loosely around the handle of her drink, she heard somebody approach her table, in amongst the low hum of activity in the tavern. Whoever they were, they stopped behind her seat. Stephanie reluctantly lifted her head, and turned. An older (though still handsome) Altmer stood behind her, wearing a lavish robe with a gold trim, and a shit-eating grin. 

“Kirandil,” he introduced himself confidently, extending a hand to the Khajiit. She took it, her torn and dirtied fur glove met his fine and pristine one. 

“It’s a pleasure,” Stephanie said simply. “Stephanie Stabbydagger, at your service.” 

Kirandil’s fair eyebrows raised. “With a name like that, I feel like I should handle you with extreme _caution_. Nevertheless…” 

He took the empty seat next to the girl. “Somehow I don’t believe you own a dagger.” 

Stephanie scowled. “Get to the point.” 

“Ralof was kind enough to inform me that a young Khajiit might be found here, willing to trade a favour…” his index finger brushed lightly over the golden fur of Stephanie’s bare arm while his pale eyes molested her body. “…For a favour.” 

_At least this one’s goodlooking_ , Stephanie thought to herself. All the same, that familiar feeling of foreboding and nausea came over her. She took a swig of her ale, still not looking in the elf’s direction. “Ralof was correct. I want a meal, and a place to sleep. And breakfast.” 

Kirandil flashed that same shit-eating grin a second time. “I own a cabin, not far from Riverwood,” he said. “I am more than willing to meet _all_ your needs - as long as you are willing to see to mine. I wish you to do something _very special_ for me.” 

“What did you have in mind?” 

The elf looked around the darkened room quickly, head turning subtly, icy blue eyes scanning for anyone who might overhear. He then pulled Stephanie’s cowl off her head and whispered in her ear. 

Stephanie finally turned to face him. She frowned. “What’s _that?_ ” 

Kirandil leaned into her ear again, for longer this time, and Stephanie promptly choked on her ale. She spluttered, coughing violently, her face dripping, and her eyes widened in shock. 

“I’m- by the Nine… I’m going to have to think about it!” she wheezed. 

A single nod of understanding from her depraved acquaintance, and he stood. 

“Here, take this,” he said. The pervert reached into his pocket, pulling out a few coins. “In the hope that you will remain silent about what I have asked you. Have another drink while you think about my offer.” 

Stephanie watched him cross the room and sit down at another table. She already knew what her answer would be. She pulled her cowl back over her head, got up and made for the bar, suddenly in need of something much stronger than ale. That bottle of Skooma she’d bartered away was looking pretty good right now. It would probably keep her warm in the barn. 

She stood at the bar and waited, watching the man behind it, presumably the owner of the tavern, serve the Nord sat to Stephanie’s left. 

“What brings a man all the way from Windhelm to our small village?” the bartender asked. 

“Passing through for trade, mostly,” the seated man replied. 

“I’ve heard some strange things have been happening in Windhelm.” 

“You’re not wrong, my friend. Did you hear about young Aventus Aretino?” 

The barman shook his head, passing the Nord his drink, before turning his attention to Stephanie. 

“Same again, please,” she said. 

The barman obliged, turning his back to her. 

“You were saying about Aventus Aretino?” he said over his shoulder. 

“Rumour has it Aretino performed the Black Sacrament, didn’t you hear? I wonder who he could possibly want dead...” 

Stephanie’s ears strained under the cowl. She gave nothing away as she took her ale and thanked the bartender. She’d heard the stories - what Dark Brotherhood wannabe _hadn’t_ heard them? If someone in Windhelm, wherever _that_ was, was trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood… well, it didn’t need thinking about. That was where Stephanie needed to be. 

She raised the tankard to her lips, glancing back over at the elf. His back was to her. It took her ten seconds to chug the whole thing, and then she took a few measured breaths. She made her way over, and tapped him on the shoulder. 

“If you give me enough coin to make a safe journey to Windhelm, I’ll do whatever you want.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“Almost there… that’s it…” 

Half a minute and two lockpicks later, Stephanie had the back door of the remote house open. With one last look out at the plains down below, and in the distance, she snuck inside, quiet as the breeze itself. 

It was a small detour on her way from Whiterun, which was where she’d stayed the night before. Her plan was to make the final leg of the journey in one day. Stephanie travelled on foot for the most part - keen to leave as little trace of her trek across Skyrim as possible. But when she came upon the house - so remote, so… inviting, nothing in all of Tamriel could’ve stopped her from breaking in. Just a small detour. 

It wouldn’t have made a difference if anybody _was_ home - Stephanie didn’t make a sound as she crept into the cabin. She barely even cast a shadow where she stood. Her keen eyes scanned the room quickly, and her heart began to pound in her chest at the sight of all the wonderful _things_ she saw… oh, they were just _begging_ to come away with her. 

_Five minutes_ , she thought to herself. Just five minutes and she’d be gone without a trace. 

She moved around the room quietly, taking everything she could reach, and shoving it anywhere on her person it would go. Like she was controlled by a higher power, she took everything that she could make use of. 

There was just such a _thrill_ in stealing. Oh, it was glorious. It was addictive. The excitement of knowing she could be caught at any moment. It was something Stephanie kept to herself her whole life, a need she’d satisfied as seldom as she could handle growing up. She doubted anyone else would understand. Even _she_ didn’t understand. 

It only took her five minutes to clear the place out. Finally, giddy from the rush of what she’d done, hands shaking, heart still pounding, she took one final look around the room. Oh… it even _looked_ bigger without all that food and clothing and gold inside. She left quickly on shaking legs. 

Stephanie carried on. Luckily she’d been able to buy a map from a particularly energetic trader in Whiterun, and he’d been kind enough to trace a path to her destination. She journeyed for what felt like hours without seeing another soul, that was until the evening, when the sky was tinged with the orange of the setting sun. She walked, munching on one of the loaves of bread she’d stolen from the cabin, and two men - Bosmer, she assumed, caught her eye in amidst the sparse trees. 

When he finally noticed Stephanie, one of the men lowered his bow, and their eyes met. Judging by the way they were moving through the forest - as though they were stalking something, Stephanie thought they must be hunters. He stared at her intently, a serious look on his face, and pointed ahead. Then, he put a gloved finger to his mouth in a shushing motion. 

Still chewing on her bread, Stephanie turned to see what the hunter was pointing at, and nearly choked when she saw them. Giants - two of them, or, at least she could see two from where she stood frozen to the ground. Even from such a safe distance, they towered over everything in sight, even the mammoths that roamed close to their masters, moving lazily in and out of the Khajiit’s view. 

At once, Stephanie decided she wanted no part in what the elves were doing. Whether the pursuit of their prey had led them right into the giants’ territory, or whether they were hunting the giants themselves, she did not know. So she quickly waved her arms dismissively in front of her and shook her head violently. The man nodded, raised his bow again, and carried on. 

Stephanie snuck away much faster - in a matter of seconds she was far ahead, moving so silently the giants would never notice her. The elves, on the other hand, moved in for the kill. As she fled the scene Stephanie watched curiously. Together they fired at the nearest mammoth, and when it roared the Khajiit swore she could feel it tear through the very air. She’d seen enough though, and so crept away, unnoticed by anyone. However when the giants began to charge, the ground shook with their heavy, clumsy footfalls. When she next looked back, one of the creatures - arrow lodged in his tattooed neck, swung his club at the nearest hunter and sent him soaring upwards to the moons. 

When the other hunter fled, that was the end of that. The giant looked dumbly to the darkening sky with a finger hanging limply from his open mouth, obviously confused about his attacker’s sudden departure. Eventually he shrugged, and lumbered back to his herd. Now that the show was well and truly over, Stephanie herself shrugged, and carried on her own journey. 

_If that’s not the strangest thing I’ve seen today…_

A few minutes passed, spent travelling in silence and solitude. Then the hunter returned from his trip to the stars. The corpse landed right in front of Stephanie with a bone-breaking thud. She screamed. 

_Okay, perhaps_ that’s _the strangest thing I’ve seen today._

It took her a moment to regain her composure when she took in the sight of the mangled body. She cursed herself silently for being distressed at all - she’d see _much_ worse when she was finally initiated into the Dark Brotherhood - in fact, she’d _do_ much worse, so she had to start getting used to it now. 

She glanced quickly up the cobblestone path that spread out before her and her unfortunate acquaintance, and then back down the path behind. As soon as she was sure the coast was clear, she dropped to her knees and stripped the corpse of everything he owned. 

*

*

It was certainly naiive of Stephanie to think she could make the journey in a single day, even for someone so quick on her feet. When the moons had well and truly conquered the sun, she eventually found what she assumed to be an abandoned camp. To who it once belonged, she didn’t know or care. All she cared about was that this was somewhere she could stop for the night. Windhelm wasn’t far, she knew that much. Of course, an inn would be preferable to the camp - that is, if it would be anything other than blind luck that would guide her to one in this wilderness. And where Stephanie was concerned, luck was usually more scarce than gold. 

When the Khajiit next woke it was bitterly cold, crisp, and the sky was still velvet black, littered with an untold number of stars. Only for a moment did she wonder what had woken her, but it didn’t take long to hear the footsteps - more than one set, making their way up the hill. 

Out of habit, Stephanie’s hand went straight to her belt, but when she found no dagger there it all came back to her. That was probably the most important thing she’d lost when the dragon attacked. So she waited, quiet, and steeled herself. 

Somehow the men still found her hiding in the shadows. Thugs, she knew it. There were three of them, weapons drawn, all dressed in bulky black armour. Stephanie already knew this wouldn’t end well. 

“Took us long enough to find you, cat,” the middle one said. His breath billowed thickly around him in the freezing night’s air. 

“What’s going on?” Stephanie asked. She certainly sounded, and looked, much braver than she felt as she pulled up her cowl, got to her feet and exited the tent. 

“Orgnar sent us,” the same man said. “Wanted us to deliver a _message_. Says nobody steals from him without getting what they deserve.” 

“Wait, who’s Orgnar?” 

“Are you stupid, cat, or have you stolen from so many people you can’t remember?” 

“...Both?” 

“Well we’re here to teach you a lesson.” 

The thug sounded so calm, so authoritative, as though he’d done this a hundred times before. As though it was a routine. Weapons raised all at once, and the three surrounded Stephanie. 

There was nothing she could do - maybe if she had the element of surprise her own claws would be enough to slit their throats, but she just couldn’t imagine them getting through that armour well. Besides, those battle-axes looked as though they’d shatter her bones if they struck her. So she fled. She ran as fast as she could through the snow-littered forest, hearing the footfalls of all three thugs close behind. She needed to get away and hide, that was all she _could_ do. 

Stephanie ran through more trees than she could count until she spotted the cave. The closer she got, the better it seemed for her purposes - just big enough to hide in. So she dived in, quick and quiet as she could, and waited. 

Several long and agonising minutes were spent waiting in that cave before the sound of twigs snapping and snow crunching under the thugs’ boots faded into the distance. With any luck, they’d given up… for now. Hopefully if they came back for her, Stephanie would be ready for them. But for now, she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. 

It was only then that Stephanie realised the cave was glowing, just enough for her lithe form to cast a blurred shadow on the rocks. She turned to find the source of the light, and a chill ran up her spine when she saw the creature stood in the middle of the cave, waiting patiently for her to notice it. She’d seen these creatures before, back home in Cyrodiil - from a distance, of course. She knew what they were, there was no mistaking a Spriggan for anything else. 

“Oh… bollocks.” 

And so, for the second time that hour, Stephanie fled into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next stop - Windhelm!
> 
> I should mention everything I write in this fic is inspired directly by things that happen during my Stephanie run in-game. So everything that seems gameplay-related actually happened. She's had some crazy experiences, and I just love this game for how crazy things can get just by chance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:
> 
> \- Obvious implied canon-compliant child abuse is obvious. Less-obvious graphic depictions of killing Grelod the Kind is less-obvious.
> 
> \- Some of the dialogue in this chapter is completely verbatim, how it is in the actual quest. Most of it I improvised on but kept extremely close to the source-material, and some of it I changed entirely. I found I REALLY hated basically copying out the quest dialogue verbatim, there's no fun in that. But for some parts I thought it was necessary to do so, and for a couple of lines I WANTED to do so because those parts stuck in my head in a way I couldn't shake, and in fact, a couple of lines in particular were what inspired me to write this in the first place. This goes for some of the dialogue in the next chapter too.
> 
> Basically writing in-game dialogue verbatim is no fun but it does happen at times.
> 
> \- Also I know this was supposed to be a comedy piece of some sort but it took some dark turns and now here we are. I'm sorry.

Windhelm, as it turned out, was a city of stone and ice. And according to a conversation Stephanie overheard between two Nords while she skulked and searched in the shadows of the buildings, the blizzard was particularly fierce today. Given the way the brutal winds seemed to cut through to her very bones despite the furs that covered her whole body, and clothed her, Stephanie felt inclined to agree. She shivered violently and moved into shelter. 

The inflections in the voice of a young boy captured Stephanie’s attention. 

“Then it’s true what everyone’s saying?” he asked. Stephanie couldn’t see the boy, or his conversational partner. She stilled herself, ready to eavesdrop. “That Aventus Aretino is doing the Black Sacrament? Trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood?” 

_By the Nine, this is it!_

The Khajiit scurried excitedly towards the voice, and peered around the corner of the building. She saw the Dunmer smile to herself, and snort in derision. 

“Oh, Grimvar…” she said. “Always with the nonsense... no… of course not. Those are just tales.” 

The boy cocked his head. “Fine then. I’ll invite him out to play. He lives right there.” 

_Hang on… did he say…_ play? _That can’t be right._

The kid strode over to the door of the house. He raised his fist, hovering over the wood. 

“I’m going to _knock_ on his door…” 

“No, child!” The elf dived forwards and caught the boy’s wrist in her own hand. “Wait- that boy… that house…” 

She gave the house a fearful once-over as she dragged the boy down the cobblestone path, to safety. “…They’re cursed.” 

When the two were safely out of sight, Stephanie emerged from behind the stone. She, too, looked over the entirety of the building’s exterior. At least she was finally here, about to talk to the man who might actually get her in touch with the Dark Brotherhood. The assassins spoken of only in legend, or in hushed tones in deserted locations. Those that Stephanie had only ever dreamed of working with. 

She approached the door, that sense of apprehension returning to her with every silent step she took. Why would that boy want to invite Aretino out to _play?_ Unless… 

“No…” Stephanie muttered to herself. She shook her head quickly as she tried the door, only to find it locked. She reached into her satchel for a lockpick. “Kids don’t only play with other kids.” 

She made quick work of the old lock and eased the door open. The girl crept inside, not making a sound. Darkness blanketed her when the door closed. No matter - Stephanie’s eyes were well-adapted to see clearly in the dark. As she stood there, not a sound could be heard in the house. Perhaps Aretino wasn’t home, Stephanie wondered. If that was the case, now would be a better time than ever to make herself at home. She would wait patiently for his return. 

Stephanie began to climb the stairs when she heard the voice. 

“Sweet Mother… sweet Mother…” he said, ever so softly, ever so quietly. “Send your child unto me… for the sins of the unworthy must be baptised in blood, and fear…” 

All at once, the girl’s heart sank like a stone in a lake. That was the incantation of the Black Sacrament, all right. Everybody - at least, everybody in her position, knew that. But that was also the voice of a mere child. So Aventus Aretino was only a kid after all. No Dark Brotherhood, no mission to take a life. Just childs’ play. 

Halfway up the stairs, Stephanie stopped. She turned around and made to leave this place. She would put this whole affair behind her, but from here, she didn’t know where she would go, or what she would do. Contacting the Dark Brotherhood seemed even less likely than when she first set foot in Skyrim. 

“...Why haven’t you come?” the young voice pleaded. 

Back at the bottom of the steps, the Khajiit stopped once again in her tracks. That voice was filled with so much desperation, so much emotion, so much hurt, there was no way this was a kid acting out a role from a storybook. This was real. 

“Please, Night Mother?” 

This kid needed someone to come to his aid, that much was obvious. And yet… the Dark Brotherhood hadn’t come, by the sound of it. The assassins he had called out for had forsaken him. 

“...Please?” 

She couldn’t listen to that pleading any longer. Not even trying to keep her movements and footfalls quiet any more, Stephanie turned for the second time, and climbed the stairs. Aretino would get his assassin, all right. 

At the top of the stairs, the smell hit her. Stephanie reeled, gagging from the stench that hung in the air. Festering, rotting meat. It was so strong, she thought the boy must’ve butchered an entire cow in the house. But she knew far better than to think that. When she finally regained her composure, Stephanie caught sight of the remains - very human, lying on the floor. Oh yes, this was the Black Sacrament in all its glory. Where the child had gotten the body from, Stephanie didn’t know, and she certainly didn’t care to find out. It was all there - the candles that threw dancing shadows onto the dark, wooden walls, the crumpled nightshade leaves cast to one side, the dagger… 

The boy looked up from his book the moment he heard the Khajiit retching, and his face lit up. The dagger slipped from his hand and fell onto the meat with a small squelch. 

“You’re here!” he cried “You’re actually here!” 

Stephanie’s heart filled with warmth at the hopeful, triumphant look on the kid’s face. She grinned a grin full of sharp teeth. “That’s right!” she said proudly. She straightened up to her full height, a hand rested confidently on her hip. “The Dark Brotherhood _always_ hears those who call to them by the dagger. I’m sorry about the delay - you know how it is, lots of clients to see… anyway, I’m here now to discuss _your_ contract.” 

Aretino’s eyes were positively glowing with wonderment. It was a while before he composed himself enough to get up off his knees. He just stared up at the Khajiit in awe. “You’re really… you’re really one of them, aren’t you? An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!” 

“Uh… yeah! Yes, I am!” The girl hoped her confident smile would hide her lies. 

Finally, Aretino got to his feet. “I never expected you to look so _normal_ … What’s your name? I’m Aventus Aretino, by the way.” 

Stephanie never answered. “It’s a pleasure,” she said instead, offering the boy her hand. He shook it. “What’s a kid like you doing all alone in a house like this?” 

“That’s… sort of why I needed your help. I’m all alone here. After Mom died… they sent me to a _terrible_ orphanage in Riften…” 

Aretino grimaced, as though merely speaking the name was causing him great discomfort. “ _Honorhall_ … with _her_ …” 

“With who?” 

“The headmistress. People call her Grelod the Kind… but she’s not kind at all. She’s an evil, cruel woman. So I ran away, back here, to perform the Black Sacrament…” 

“And that’s who you want me to kill?” 

Aretino nodded excitedly. “Yeah!” 

Trepidation overcame Stephanie all in an instant. “…Grelod the _Kind?_ I don’t know, kid…” 

“No, please!” Aretino begged. “You _have_ to! She’s terrible! To _all_ of us! PLEASE kill her! Not just for me - for everyone at Honorhall!” 

Stephanie wore a pained look on her face as she stared down at the boy. How much he reminded her of herself at that age… the way she felt about _all_ grown-ups who got in the way of anything fun she was doing, or wanted to do… she was a real brat, truth be told. Most kids were - now she was older, she appreciated that. How could she be expected to kill anyone named Grelod the _Kind?_ All the same… there was no mistaking the look of sheer desperation in Aretino’s eyes. He’d prayed for an assassin to come and kill the woman, and that alone said more than any words could. 

_Maybe I should just go and see what all this is about…_

*

*

The moment Stephanie opened the door of Honorhall Orphanage, she was met by the crackling and the warmth of a roaring fire. After the arduous trip that spanned three days, it was welcoming to her, and a comfort that allowed her apprehension to melt away for just a brief moment. Until she heard a rough, female voice shout something incomprehensible, and she remembered why she was here. 

Stephanie peered around the door frame, as quiet as possible. Judging by the mess - furniture, cutlery and a couple of broken ornaments strewn around the large room, she guessed she’d arrived just in time to miss some sort of altercation. She frowned deeply when she saw the old woman standing over a small boy, cowering. The other kids looked on in fear. 

“You better remember now that those who shirk their duties get an EXTRA beating!” 

The hag turned, her scowl sweeping around the small crowd to address every child individually. 

“Do I make myself clear?” she snarled. 

“Yes, Grelod,” the kids all responded in unison. 

So this is Grelod the Kind, Stephanie thought to herself. Her heart raced, and an icy chill forced itself up her spine and into her limbs. Aretino wasn’t being a brat after all… something awful really was happening here. And Stephanie would put an end to it. 

Tonight. 

"You’re all lucky I’m too tired to give the _rest_ of you what you deserve. Now go to bed! All of you!” 

The kids moved about the room, miserably, clearing up the mess, and Grelod - just Grelod to Stephanie, retreated towards what was probably her own study. Her hand on the doorknob, she stopped, looking just for a moment like she was pondering over something, and turned around. 

“One more thing,” she added. “No more talk of adoptions! NONE of you riff-raff is getting adopted! Ever! Nobody needs you, nobody WANTS you! You’ll always be here, until the day you come of age!” 

Her malicious eyes swept the room for the last time. “Now, what you do you all say?” 

“We love you Grelod, thank you for your kindness,” rang out monotonously. 

And with that, the woman finally retreated to her study, leaving the kids to carry out their chores. Stephanie whipped back around the door frame and leaned against the wall, heart pounding with a fury the likes of which she’d never known before. 

_That woman has to die_. 

The footsteps only a few feet away brought Stephanie back to reality. She crept back around the door to see what was going on. A new woman had entered the room, she’d walked right past Stephanie without even noticing she was there. She dropped to her knees to comfort the small boy, now crying on the young lady’s shoulder. 

“Shh… I’ve got you, it's okay,” she said soothingly. The wavering in her voice told Stephanie she didn’t believe her own words. 

“It’s not fair, Miss Michel…” the kid whimpered. 

“I know, I know it’s not fair, just… just try and make sure to do what she asks, better not to make her mad.” 

Tears of anger welled up in Stephanie’s eyes. Her hand gripped so tightly to the door frame she was sure the wood would splinter and break under her wrath. From here on out, it was a waiting game. Waiting until everybody had gone to bed, and she could cross that room and give that old hag what was coming to her. And waiting there was probably the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life. 

She was rewarded for her patience though. It wasn’t too long before Honorhall Orphanage fell silent, and Stephanie finally made her way quietly across the room. She opened the door to Grelod’s study quickly and quietly, and closed it behind her. The loud snores coming from the bed told her the old witch was already sound asleep. Good. Stephanie didn’t want a struggle. 

She approached Grelod’s sleeping form, watching her own shadow loom ominously over the bed. _This is it_ , she thought to herself as she flexed her clawed hand. _Time to kill this… old… defenceless woman. No - stop thinking like that! She_ needs _to die! Someone has to stop her beating these poor kids!_

Still, as she leaned over Grelod, the stench of the old woman filling her nostrils, claws hovering dangerously close to her throat, she reminded herself she’d never killed anyone before. Could she really do it? She’d picked the pocket of an old lady, once. Later she found out the lady was completely blind. But that was hardly anything close to real murder. 

She could walk away right now. Nobody would ever know she was here. Apart from Aretino, that was. What would happen to him? Would the Dark Brotherhood eventually send one of their own? _They’d_ kill her. Even if Stephanie walked away, Grelod the Kind’s days were numbered, she’d still die one way or another. 

In all of her anger, all of her hatred for the woman, Stephanie had somehow forgotten why she’d come here in the first place. Her dream of seeking out the Dark Brotherhood, and their approval, could be right around the corner. If she had what it took to be one of them, that was. 

In one quick motion, Stephanie grabbed the woman by the hair, and sunk the claws of her other hand deep into her throat. She didn’t know where the major blood vessels were, but as she dragged her claws across Grelod’s withered neck, she felt a torrent of warm blood wash over her hand in an instant, watched the light bed sheets become fully saturated in red, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she bled out. 

Grelod coughed and spluttered weakly, and for a moment she struggled to open her eyes, and the shadow looming over her, cast onto the wall, was the last thing she saw. When it was all over, Stephanie released the woman from her grip. Her heart hammered somewhere in the back of her throat, and her whole body shook fiercely. She’d really done it, she’d really killed her. 

“Did you hear something?” came a quiet, yet curious voice from the next room. 

“Let’s go check it out,” came another. 

She had to hide. Quickly. She straightened up to find she was standing in a thick pool of blood, already making its way steadily to all four corners of the small room. She scanned the room quickly, there was only one place she could hide. She jumped behind the bookshelf and pressed herself up against the wall, still as a statue, just as the door opened, and two small girls crept into the room. 

Stephanie closed her eyes, preparing to be caught quite literally red-handed. She was sure the pounding of her heart would give her position away. 

“Everyone! Look!” one of the girls said excitedly. “Someone’s killed Grelod!” 

One by one, all the kids entered the room. For a moment confused murmurs bounced around the group, and then nothing but a stunned silence, before Honorhall erupted in the cheering of kids of all ages. 

“She’s dead! Aventus did it!” 

“He got the Dark Brotherhood to kill her! No more Grelod!” 

“We love you, Dark Brotherhood!” 

In the chaos that ensued - children chasing each other excitedly around the hall, shrieking their praises to the Dark Brotherhood, bloody footprints on every inch of the wooden floor, Miss Michel sobbing over the blood-soaked corpse in the study, Stephanie was able to get away completely unnoticed. The cold of the outdoor breeze was perfectly refreshing as it blew gently through Stephanie’s fur, and the soft starlight in Riften was calming as she leant against the door. She was completely overcome with emotion. 

_We love you, Dark Brotherhood!_

The words echoed over and over in the Khajiit’s ears, the lump in her throat getting bigger and more painful every time they did. She fought hard to keep from bursting into tears. She took deep breaths, gulping down the crisp air, before making her departure from Riften. She had to get back to Windhelm, as soon as possible, and the journey would be long. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno about anyone else, but I found that quest to be pretty emotional. I guess I get particularly immersed when I play video games and I always find myself getting attached to characters. Again, I feel like that emotion is where my desire to write this came from.


	4. Chapter 4

“So… what happened?” Aretino asked tentatively as the exhausted Khajiit climbed the stairs. 

“It’s done, kid,” Stephanie said. “Grelod won’t hurt anyone ever again.” 

Aretino beamed, he punched the air with his fist and cackled triumphantly. “I knew it! I knew you’d do it! You’re the BEST! The Dark Brotherhood’s the best!” 

Stephanie returned the boy’s massive smile, she just couldn’t help herself. She felt the lump returning to her throat. “Pleasure’s all mine. I’ll remember you, kid.” 

Aretino calmed down just enough to respond. “Oh yeah, about payment… this is all I have, I hope it’s okay,” he said, crossing the dark room and removing a silver platter from its stand on the bookcase. He pressed it into Stephanie’s hand. “It’s a family heirloom.” 

Stephanie held the platter up, watching it reflect the meagre candlelight as she turned it this way and that. It was a pretty ornament, clearly it had been looked after throughout the years, but it wouldn’t sell for much coin. Not that Stephanie cared about that. As soon as she found herself a place to live in Skyrim, she’d display her reward proudly, for all to see. This would be something for her to remember Aretino by. 

The lump in her throat was painful now. She swallowed hard. “Thanks Aventus. I’ll look after this. You take care of yourself, now. Maybe we’ll meet again some day.” 

After sliding the platter as carefully as possible into her satchel, Stephanie made for the staircase, before Aretino called to her one last time. She turned her head. 

“When I grow up, I wanna be a Dark Brotherhood assassin, just like you!” 

Stephanie left the house without saying anything. She flew out the door and into the cold chill of Windhelm, and as she leaned back against the stone, she finally burst into tears. 

*

*

The word going around was that homes in Whiterun were selling very cheaply at the moment. Possibly to entice some new blood, and therefore, new business, into the city. Whatever the reason, Stephanie had shown interest. All she had to do was fetch some odd rock for the court wizard, and suddenly the Jarl of Whiterun had taken a liking to the girl, and was insisting she had to look no further for a home. It suited Stephanie just fine - she’d only managed to collect about half the funds she’d have needed to actually buy a house by that time, anyway. 

So she was given the key to her new abode, and a small guide on how best to decorate the place, and she strolled happily down through the paths of the city. No sooner had she stuffed the book in her satchel, when she felt a light tapping on her shoulder. She turned around. 

“Excuse me, miss… Stephanie… Stabby… dagger?” the man stared intently at his scroll. “Am I reading that right?” 

“Yes, that’s me, what do you need?” 

“I’ve got something for you here, supposed to be for your eyes only.” 

The man began rummaging around in his own satchel. 

“Aha! Here we are! It’s a rather strange letter, I’ve never seen anything like _this_ before… maybe it means something to you?” 

The moment Stephanie unfolded the note, it made sense. The Black Hand, unmistakeable. Someone had pressed their hand, ink-stained, onto the page, and underneath the smudged print the words “WE KNOW” had been scrawled. The girl’s heart raced with excitement. She’d heard rumours… stories, about exactly this. This was how the Dark Brotherhood recruited their assassins! They really had deemed her worthy of being one of them! 

She lowered the note, still holding it in trembling hands. It was only a matter of waiting for them to come to her, now, and her dream would finally be realised. 

The courier frowned slightly. “Are you all right? You look a little… never mind. I’ll be on my way.” 

With that, he was gone, leaving Stephanie still standing there outside her home, still staring down at the note. The rest of the world seemed to fade out of her attention, and all she could see was the hand. 

She nearly screamed when the courier tapped her again. 

“Didn’t mean to startle you, ma’am, I just remembered I’m supposed to be passing these out to all homeowners. You take care now.” 

Stephanie opened the second note. ‘Consider adoption’, it read. She scanned the letter, and it wasn’t all that much of a surprise to learn that that Michel lady had taken over Honorhall Orphanage. That thought was a huge comfort to Stephanie. She seemed like a sweet lady, and the way she wrote about the kids really showed how much she cared about them. 

As far as considering adoption went, that was something Stephanie always knew would be in her future. It was in her past, too. She was adopted herself, raised by Redguards. Oh, she’d be adopting a kid all right. And she knew exactly who she’d adopt first. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's it. I enjoyed writing this and it came out exactly as I'd hoped. Truth be told, when I started I was hoping I might be able to write it all as a single chapter, but I'm glad I didn't.
> 
> Stephanie is a fun character to play as, she's making her way through both the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves' Guild now, and if you want a character who can walk right in front of anyone and not be seen, and steal anything from anyone, she's perfect.
> 
> I've started *another* run recently and I'm again inspired to write a new fic based off his adventures.


End file.
